


pitch & volume

by belivaird_st



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-18 05:41:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17574962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belivaird_st/pseuds/belivaird_st
Summary: Rindy has grown to accept her mother’s disappearence and her father’s new family while staying under Abby’s care in the year of 1966.





	1. Chapter 1

“Your father will probably bring _whatshername_ , tonight,” Abby muttered, stopping the car in front of a red traffic light. 

“You can say her name, Aunt Abby,” 18-year-old, Dorinda ‘Rindy’ Aird, spoken from the passenger seat, all dressed up in her long black velvet choir dress. 

“Eileen Allen.” Abby exhaled loudly. She tightened her grip around the steering wheel.

Rindy stared ahead through the rain speckled windshield wipers once Abby pressed her heel toe on the gas pedal and began to move. Both the red and green traffic lights outshined the January winter evening that reminded Rindy a set of Christmas lights. 

“I’m looking forward hearing you sing your solo tonight, kiddo,” Abby told her, grinning ear-to-ear.

“Maybe a miracle will happen and I will catch laryngitis,” Rindy muttered.

Abby laughed softly. 

xxxx

Rindy felt a swarm of butterflies swirl inside her tummy the moment she and Abby made it to the high school and found an empty space in the wide parking lot. Abby took a few seconds to lock all the doors before sliding her umbrella open. Rindy had slid hers wide open and walked along beside her godmother through the watery, cracked cement in her pair of black ankle suede shoes.

They went inside the music hall wing with the other parents and students. Abby shook water off her umbrella in the drafty, large cathedral-style hallway and watched Rindy take off to go meet up with the rest of her choir class practicing their pitch and volume inside one of the two band rooms.

Abby blew the teenage girl a kiss goodbye—having parents do the same thing with their own children before going inside the auditorium with a brochure of tonight’s lineup.

“Enjoy the show,” said one of the music teachers—Miss Belivet—who was standing beside the double doors; handing over a pale blue music brochure. She smiled, showing off a dimple Abby thought was sort of cute.

“Thank you.” Abby took the paper. She stepped inside the auditorium soon swallowed up by the dim-lit darkness.

Walking through the carpet aisle, Abby spotted Rindy’s father and his wife-to-be, Eileen Allen, seated together in a row of bright red fold-out chairs with Eileen’s three children from her previous marriage—Marie, Hector, and Griff. All five of them had their backs facing towards her, so they didn’t even know she grabbed a seat on the other side of the room near the back.

xxxx

Harge Aird held onto Eileen’s hand on the smooth wooden arm rest; squeezing her soft, slender fingers. He could hear her sigh under her breath. She sounded bored like she’d rather be someplace else.

“How long must we sit and wait for these throat exercises?” The woman questioned.

“Here they come now,” Harge grunted out a reply. He had released Eileen and shifted as soon as the curtains rose up showing all thirty-two choir students dressed in black-and-white attire. The young men wore matching white collared shirts, cummerbunds, neck ties and black trousers—the young ladies wore black scoop neck dresses, silk ribbons, headbands, and metal barrettes. Harge found Rindy standing near the front on the bleachers in her choir dress and plastic headband. She wasn’t smiling like the rest of her classmates. Her baby blue eyes looked sharp and serious— _just like her old man_ , Harge thought, delighted.

The drama teacher—Mr. Tucker—began to play, “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” on the piano. The students sang in perfect harmony. When it was time for her solo, Rindy got down from the bleachers and stepped in front of the microphone. She sang alto:

_“I’m sometimes up and sometimes down,_  
_Comin’ for to carry me home_  
_But still I know I’m heavenly bound_  
_Comin’ for to carry me home...”_

She got a small round of applause from the audience once she made her way back to stand on the bleachers. Because it was too dark to see anyone, she did not notice Abby clapping so much; even whistling to her by using both her index finger and thumb.

At last, the night got a smile from her around the very end of a total of six songs. Rindy bowed like the rest of the students having the curtains drop elegantly over them.

xxxx

Abby waited for Rindy to come out from backstage through the auditorium doors. She glowed with happiness at the sight of the girl approaching her. She fell into Abby’s warm embrace, resting her cheek onto her shoulder. 

“You sang beautifully,” Abby gushed, rubbing the girl’s thin, lean back. “Good job, honey! I knew you could do it!”

“I couldn’t see you onstage,” Rindy murmured, pulling away. She saw Abby’s focus was on someone else. Turning around, Rindy locked eyes with her father. Eileen Allen and her children were standing a foot apart from him, staring back. Harge spread his arms out and collected his baby girl, who pecked him politely on the cheek and held onto his broad shoulders.

“Hi, Sunshine,” her daddy said, holding onto her waist. He was looking back at her, admiringly. “You were truly wonderful tonight.”

“Thanks, Daddy,” Rindy smiled. Then her mood darkened from watching her step-mother-to-be coming over.

“Dorinda—you sang lovely,” Eileen beamed, calling her by her full name. “I never knew you had your father’s talent.”

“She got it from her mother,” Abby broke in, coolly.

“Abby, is it?” Eileen chuckled. “The so-called best friend? It must really drive you bonkers not knowing where your old babysitter ran off to. A shame she’s not with us here tonight...”

“You shut your goddamn mouth,” Abby snarled. “Say goodnight, Rindy.”

Harge made an attempt of kissing his daughter goodbye, but she awkwardly pulled away from him and mumbled ‘goodnight’ while zipping her neon orange raincoat all the way up with her umbrella sticking out from the large side pocket.

xxxx

“Bitch,” Abby sputtered out, glaring out the slick, wet roads winding ahead of them. “What she needs is a good smack across the mouth!”

“Aunt Abby, calm down,” Rindy groaned. “It’s not a big deal. I’m all right.”

“No. It was inappropriate,” Abby spoke sourly. “It’s not fair to your mother or to yourself.”

“Why should I care? Mom doesn’t,” Rindy said. 

Abby glanced sideways at her, speechless. She had no answer, because there wasn’t a better one than that.

Home was Aunt Abby’s in New Jersey. Rindy barreled herself inside going straight for her room located to the left of the hallway. She slammed the door shut—hard—while Abby laid her keys inside the bowl by the coat rack. She removed her moccasin boots and went for the kitchen cabinet to make herself some herbal tea.

“Rindy?” Abby gave the girl’s door a few knocks before twisting the knob. She pushed herself through with a teacup and saucer. She carried the drink over toward the girl, who was lying up in bed, writing in her journal. She had on her sky blue polka dot pajamas and her medium light brown hair pulled back in a short ponytail. Rindy stopped writing to gaze up at her legal guardian. 

“I’d be nice to have a real conversation with you without becoming hysterical or slamming any doors,” Abby spoke softly now. She held out the hot drink as soon as Rindy set her pen and journal aside on the queen mattress bed and reached over to take it.

Rindy didn’t say a word. She quietly blew on her drink before sipping carefully. 

“You probably don’t want to hear this from me, but your mother still loves you. Neither of us can understand why she left. But we have to believe there’s going to be a day she decides to come back.” Abby sat on the edge of the bed, watching Rindy stare into her cup.

“I was eleven when we stopped looking for her, Aunt Abby,” Rindy said. “We’ve accepted the fact she’s not coming back. She’s not missing. She doesn’t want to be found. That was seven years ago. What makes you think this year will be any different?”

“That’s what best friends do. They hope the best for each other no matter what.” Abby leaned over to pick up the small portrait of Carol that had been facedown on Rindy’s dresser. She set the photo right side up and gazed into those eyes that were staring off into the distance at nothing back.


	2. Chapter 2

“How was your sleep?”

Abby asked her every morning. 

“Fine,” would be Rindy’s usual answer.

The two of them would be seated beside each other at the breakfast table with plates of a specific dish: this morning, for example, Rindy was cutting herself a piece of poached egg with spinach. She ate the food quietly while Abby was spreading peach jelly on some whole wheat toast. 

“Got any plans for today?” Abby brought one of the sliced pieces of toast close to her lips and took an eager bite.

Rindy chewed and swallowed. “No.” She dropped her fork to reach for her glass of orange juice.

“The house could use a good cleaning,” Abby hinted. “And we'll need to get new brakes for the car. I noticed the wheels were gliding a bit last night.”

Rindy set her glass of juice back down before picking up her fork again. Abby took another bite of her toast before picking up her copy of today’s paper. She liked to skim through the pages instead of actually reading them. Headlines of the Vietnam War depressed her. Sometimes she would grab a pair of scissors to cut out some food coupons for the market.

xxxx

They started cleaning the kitchen first. Abby cleared off the table and began washing the dishes while Rindy swept and mopped the floor. She playfully poked her aunt’s bare ankles with the cold, wet mop to get her to flick sink water back at her in return.

Next they cleaned the living room. They swept and vacuumed the rugs and wooden floors, dusted the furniture, watered the indoor houseplants, and reorganized the shoes and coats in the hallway. Abby had even scrubbed the walls and doorknobs with a sponge and bucket of warm water. Rindy took charge when it was time for her aunt’s smoke break. Abby had to smoke outside on the porch, because of her goddaughter’s asthma.

“When do you think Dad will marry Eileen?” Rindy asked Abby, stepping out with her jacket unzipped and her feet in pair of satin ballet slippers.

“Beats me.” Abby was blowing a cloud of smoke with her head tipped back; seated comfortably in an Adirondack chair. “Maybe Daddy isn’t ready yet?” She held her burning cigarette with two fingers.

“How could he still not be? Eileen and her kids live with him,” Rindy pointed out.

Abby gestured for her to stay back from the smoke with her empty left hand before replying,

“Your father is probably still in love with your mother. He can’t let go of her.” Now she stuck the cigarette in her mouth and waved the girl away. “Get back in the house, Rin! Your asthma!”

They cleaned the bathroom next. Abby scrubbed the sink and toilet. Rindy had to pull all the hair out of the drain and give the tub a good rinse and scrub. 

Their bedrooms were left for last. Rindy gathered up all of her dirty clothes off the floor and threw them into the laundry room across the hallway. Abby vacuumed underneath her bed and rearranged the clothes by color inside her closet. She washed all of her windows and vanity mirror with a dishrag and cleaner. She had to wear rubber gloves because the Lysol fluid would give her a rash.

Rindy finished her room first. She came into her aunt’s bedroom with her face flushed pink and the sleeves of her blouse rolled up past her shoulders.

“You done?” Abby questioned. She gazed over from one window sill.

“Uh huh,” Rindy said. 

“Swell. Let’s get some new brakes!”

xxxx

Abby paid a mechanic to switch her convertible’s old brakes for new ones around lunch time. She took Rindy out to grab a bite to eat at a sandwich depot downtown. They each had themselves roast beef on wheat bread with bags of seasalt chips and bottles of spring water. 

“Is this the best Saturday you ever had?” Abby smirked, screwing the cap back tight on her bottled water.

Rindy made a face that got Abby to laugh and toss her balled up napkin playfully at her.


	3. Chapter 3

Rindy followed Abby inside the local drugstore around 6 o’clock that evening to go pick up her new inhaler. A line of people had been waiting behind the pharmacist counter. Abby stood behind a gentleman blowing his nose with a handkerchief.

“I’m going to go look at the magazines,” Rindy told her aunt. 

“Go ahead,” Abby said, pressing a gloved hand on her plaid purse.

Rindy walked past a display table filled with homemade jelly, plastic-wrapped chocolate chip cookies, and bags of caramel popcorn. She stopped to pick up a stuffed cloth mouse from another display table that had a woven basket filled with stuffed cloth animals and miniature porcelain dolls. Rindy placed the mouse back down and moved along toward the next table filled with toy model set aircrafts, cars and trains. Placing a red boxcar back down on a curved metal track, she remembered the magazines and went straight for them.

She picked up January month’s issue of Seventeen and started flipping through the pages. A hollow pair of heels clipped their way towards her and stood beside her saddle shoes.

“Well, look who it is, Hector,” spoken the voice of Eileen Allen.

Rindy peered up to stare at her soon-to-be stepmother and stepbrother, Hector Allen. Hector was Eileen’s oldest son, but the middle child of the three kids. He was a moody 15-year-old who liked to shoot cans off the hood of a beatup truck in the woods and masturbate in his room.

“Hello, Dorinda,” Eileen smirked.

“Hey, Eileen,” Rindy muttered. “Hi, Hector.”

Hector mumbled a ‘hello’ without looking at her in the eye. His jet black hair was parted and growing past around his ears. He wore a charcoal blazer jacket over a sky blue collar dress shirt and brown corduroy trousers. _That kid’s damaged_ , Abby would often say. Rindy would usually keep her distant from the Allen children, especially Hector. He scared her the most.

“You and Abby are still coming over for dinner tomorrow night, right?” Eileen questioned.

“Yeah,” Rindy answered. She had no choice in the matter. She and Abby would always go to her father’s house for Sunday Night Dinner. It was tradition.

“Good.” Eileen cleared her throat and shifted her purse around. “Where's your aunt?”

“She’s right here,” Abby spoke loud enough, walking toward the three of them holding a white paper bag in one hand. She passed Rindy over her inhaler. Folding her arms together, she stared intently down at Eileen. “Haven’t we seen you enough for one weekend?”

“That’s cute, Abby. I’ll remember to cry the next time you say that,” Eileen responded tartly. “I won’t keep you girls here any longer. Enjoy the rest of your night. Come along, Hex,” she steered her son away toward the exit.

Abby was leaving, too. Rindy now closed the magazine and quickly slipped it back inside the paper booksleeve before catching up.


End file.
